Dreams ahead, the old behind,
and in the Meantime of life I sit.
And it’s in the meantime waiting that quietness settles
and I wonder what all this waiting is about anyway, and
if these dreams will materialize or if they won’t.
Which is more terrifying, I can’t decide.
In the meantime I sit like a good girl on a Ferris Wheel,
sometimes the lucky one and it stops at top and that’s where I smile, laugh,
but sometimes at the bottom which I really don’t like at all.
No matter where I’m stopped, I wonder if all his dreams will come true, too,
and I think I’d do just about anything to make them all happen, to see
him stand on his land and look for miles at the harvest ahead.
But I can’t, because it’s the meantime and the instruction is to wait.
So I do, and perhaps you’re there with me, and we
could take hands and ride round and round, up and down,
until it’s time to leave Meantime.